Pieces Cut From The Score
by Scrawlers
Summary: There are some things that even the Score didn't see -- certain aspects of people that Fate didn't bother to write down. Independent oneshots, each one focusing on a main character, inspired by songs but NOT songfics. First: Carry On Wayward Son - Luke.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Tales of the Abyss, sadly, and most likely never, ever will.

**Authors' Note: **This is a new little project I'm starting, though my other projects (particularly Bonds of Brotherhood) take precedence. Basically, I'm going through and finding songs that I associate most strongly with each of the main characters in the game (including Van and his God-Generals), and then writing a piece set to that song. Usually I'll try to include one of the lyrics in the piece in some way, through dialogue or something of the other, but keep in mind that these _**are not song-fics**_. These would be closer to that MP3 Shuffle challenge that goes around, except that my iTunes is not on Shuffle for this and I'm not restricting myself to any time limit.

These can and will take place at any point during the timeline of the game, so bear in mind that there will be spoilers all over the place -- particularly in this very first one with Luke, because it deals with the ambiguous ending.

And speaking of this very first one, I chose "Carry On Wayward Son" by Kansas because of all the songs I associate with Luke, this one resonates the most strongly. The chorus I feel would be Lorelei speaking to Luke, whereas all the verses would be Luke speaking about his own experiences; and I feel that, at the end of the day, Luke went above and beyond what any normal person would be able to do, but instead of being some legendary hero, he's still very human scraping by with everything he's got. It's hard for me to articulate why I feel this song screams _Luke fon Fabre _to me, but it just does, more than I associate it with any other character, and more than I associate him with any other song.

Anyway, if you read, please review!

* * *

Pieces Cut From The Score

**Cut One: Carry On Wayward Son - Luke**_  
"Carry on my wayward son.  
There'll be peace when you are done.  
Lay your weary head to rest--  
Don'tcha cry no more." _

* * *

It was warm. So warm, and Luke was so tired.

He had the strangest sensation of floating, as if he was lying on his back in the middle of the air -- and it had to be air, for it was softer than any body of water he'd ever floated in. As he floated there, Luke realized that he really _was_ tired -- tired of the constant questions, the constant running, the constant fighting. Ever since leaving the manor, he never got a break. There was always some Sephiroth failing, some piece of the Outer Lands falling, someone being kidnapped and someone in danger. Even the two month lull didn't count, for Van had been at work during that time period, too. And the God-Generals. Yulia, the God-Generals. Luke wouldn't be surprised if Dist was somehow still alive. They never stopped. _Nothing_ ever stopped. There was always something. And Luke was tired of fighting it -- so very, very tired.

"And you have earned the rest you seek, Luke. Every bit of it."

The voice was near enough to startle Luke, yet he didn't feel himself jump -- didn't even feel the urge to reach for his sword as he ordinarily would have. Where had that instinct come from? A year ago, before Tear's hyperresonance combined with his own had spirited him away from the manor, he would never had the urge to reach automatically for a weapon. He would have complained about being startled, would have _maybe_ gotten to his feet, but he wouldn't have the sudden fight-or-flight instinct. The kill-or-be-killed instinct that still made him feel sick to his stomach and kept him awake at night. Was that what the journey had really turned him into? A jumpy warrior?

"Not exactly. A hero, perhaps. A champion. A vessel."

"I'm no hero," Luke mumbled automatically. He'd wanted to be one once, in a time that almost seemed like another lifetime to him now. He'd chased dreams of grandeur and demanded respect when he barely even knew what that word meant. Now he knew better. He took lives, even when he tried to save them. He just tried to survive while making sure no one else's blood stained his hands. Luke scrambled for answers, scampering across Auldrant as quickly as he could to stop everything from falling apart. He wasn't a hero -- just a person trying to make up for mistakes and stop any more from being made.

"You saved the world, Luke. You stopped it from being destroyed. You _are_ a hero, and you have done admirably."

The words rang with familiarity in his ears, and Luke finally opened his eyes, though the effort was on scale with lifting the Tartarus with one hand. What he saw jarred him enough to open his eyes the rest of the way; the floating situation was not unreal, for he certainly _was_ floating . . . somewhere. Luke had no idea where. Golden light swirled around him, piercing through the endless gray that reached in every direction. Luke was . . . standing, for lack of a better word, though there was no ground to speak of. And Asch was nowhere in sight.

_Asch?_ Luke wondered. _Why would I be looking for Asch?_

"You caught him," the voice explained, and Luke looked up in shock to see a glowing figure before him. The light around the figure was far too intense to make out any distinct shape, but Luke could at least tell that it was a vaguely humanoid figure. And the voice was familiar -- _painfully_ familiar. "Just before I brought you here. You must have remembered the action, despite all that was happening."

"Before you brought me here?" Luke's voice cracked, as if he hadn't used it in ages, and he shook his head to try and shake off his stupor. "Where _is_ here? And where's Asch now, if I caught him?"

"That will take quite a bit of explaining." The voice almost sounded amused, but his amusement didn't stretch to Luke, who only felt more confused than ever. Confused, and so, _so_ tired. "First, allow me to properly introduce myself. Luke, I am Lorelei."

"Lorelei?" Luke felt as if all of the air had been punched from his lungs. Sudden dread washed through him with the force of a rockslide, and he shook his head, as if doing so would dispel what was currently before him. "But you can't be Lorelei. I freed you! I defeated Master Van, I used the Key of Lorelei -- I did everything I was supposed to! You should be in the Fon Belt!"

"Peace, Luke." If Lorelei was concerned, he didn't show it. Luke frowned, his brow creasing.

"How can I be at peace? You have to ascend to the Fon Belt or--"

"Auldrant has been saved," Lorelei interrupted. "It is safe . . . for now, but that is a matter to attend to later." Luke's frown deepened.

"Later? I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

If Luke didn't know better, he'd almost say Lorelei sighed. But sighing was such a human action that Luke couldn't imagine Lorelei, of all things, carrying it out. It'd be the same as if Lorelei had shrugged, or had announced that he was going to go shower. What did a force like Lorelei go about sighing for? "Luke, I would like to begin by apologizing."

"Apologizing? For what?"

"For deceiving you. Or, deceiving you is not exactly the proper word I'm looking for . . ." Luke felt something warm touch his cheek, like a hand, but he didn't feel the need to pull away from it as he ordinarily would have. "You have done admirably," Lorelei repeated, "but your work is far from done, and for that I apologize."

"I still don't--"

"This entire battle," Lorelei continued, "has been a battle over fate -- destiny. Things which can be changed, things which cannot . . . But I'm afraid every player in the final battle had a terribly skewed view of what Destiny truly is, yourself included. In fact, the one in your world closest to understanding what it truly meant was the replica Fon Master Ion, and even he did not fully see the entire scope."

Luke remained silent, merely watching as the glowing figure before him paused to collect its words.

"Destiny," Lorelei continued, "is not set in stone. There was a time when even I imagined that it was -- and how shocked I was to discover that I was wrong! There is no one great Destiny that is written, no one great Destiny that must be followed." Luke had half a mind to say that he knew this already, that Ion had explained it and that he himself had proven it, but found that he couldn't muster the energy to interrupt. "However, to say that there is no set path entirely is to lie. Destiny _does_ exist. It _does_ exert influence, and there is no escaping it. It is just that Destiny interferes more strongly in the lives of some people more than others."

"So what you're trying to say is that people don't have free will?" Luke asked, and though he didn't mean for his response to sound bitter, it did.

"Not at all," Lorelei answered. "Or at least . . . not _exactly_. Free will does exist . . . to an extent. Human beings . . . You are all free to make your own choices. Each choice you make will set you on a path, and as your friend Ion stated, there are billions of paths that you could take. Thousands of possibilities. However, in the lives of some -- not even all, but some -- each path will ultimately lead to the same end result.

"Luke, when I apologize, I am apologizing for everything." There was a truly apologetic note in Lorelei's voice, and once again Luke felt that warm feeling brush from his temple and down his cheek. "I am apologizing for your imprisonment within your own manor, for the lives you were forced to take--" Luke couldn't help the flinch that crossed his face, or the unpleasant turn of his stomach "--for the fall of Akzeriuth and Saint Binah -- for all of the hardships that you faced. I am truly sorry."

"It was my fault," Luke countered. "I'm the one that didn't listen to everyone, I'm the one that trusted Master Van at Akzeriuth--"

"No," Lorelei interrupted. "While it is true that your methods for reaching that point were questionable," Luke snorted, "there was nothing you could have done to avoid it. One way or another, you _would_ have ended up destroying the Sephiroth. One way or another, Akzeriuth would have fallen."

"But the Score wasn't absolute," Luke argued. He didn't feel like arguing. He felt like _sleeping_ -- sleeping for years and years without interruption. But this was something that he couldn't let pass, not after all that he'd done. "That was just one path out of many, like Ion said. It didn't _have_ to happen, it just _did_ because of what I did."

"This has very little to do with the Score. You are correct in saying that what was written in the Score was merely one path out of many. However, the end result still would have been the same. Luke, _your_ Fate, _your_ Destiny . . . It was all written down before the Score even existed."

"How is that possible? No one knew I was going to exist until Master Van kidnapped Asch--"

"It simply is." Luke frowned, not liking Lorelei's answer at all. It was too similar to "you'll understand when you're older" and other nonsense responses he'd received to his questions as a child. "It is too difficult to explain -- to even comprehend, even for a being such as myself. Luke, the day when you left your manor for the first time was fated. Even if you'd been elsewhere in your manor at the time, you still would have ended up leaving the manor with Mystearica Grants. Each step you took, each action you took, each decision you made . . . each one was one step closer to this point."

"And what _is_ this point?"

"You are my Scion, Luke." It was hard to decipher the tone in Lorelei's voice. Pity? Resignation? Pride? Excitement? "My one, true Scion."

"What about Asch?"

"Asch is with you." As if Lorelei sensed Luke's confusion -- and perhaps it did, for it had done a pretty good job reading Luke's mind previously -- it continued. "When you caught him, your fonons were already separating, as were his. Using my power, I fused your fonons together. The two of you . . . have become One."

"Asch . . . is inside me?" Luke looked at his hands, and was vaguely surprised that they didn't look any different. He didn't _feel_ any different, either. Luke closed his eyes, half expecting to hear Asch's voice in his mind -- calling him a worthless dreck, among other things -- but found nothing more than his own thoughts. The silence was almost unsettling, and the reminder that Asch was _gone_ -- really _gone_ -- was more painful than Luke would have originally thought.

"His fonons merged with yours, yes. It was a perfect fusion. Since he'd already passed on, there was no saving his persona . . . but his fonons were still intact enough to fuse completely with yours."

"Why?" To Luke's surprise, Lorelei chuckled, the sound warm but not entirely happy.

"If I hadn't done that, your fonons would have separated completely -- there would have been nothing left. You would have been lost completely, Luke, and I would be without my Scion." A pause. "It pains me to say it like that -- to speak of such manipulation, but I suppose I cannot change the way things are. I am sorry."

"I still don't get it." Luke felt stupid, as if he was listening to one of Jade's complicated explanations about . . . well, about almost anything, really. Jade spoke in complicated terms as a rule of thumb, only switching to plain language when he was explicitly asked. "You're supposed to go to the Fon Belt, so why--?"

"Auldrant has been saved from the imminent threat, and much of my energy is being released to the Fon Belt -- most of it, actually. But that is precisely why I need my Scion, Luke." The warmth was on both sides of Luke's head, as if holding his head in place, and Luke wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but Lorelei seemed to move closer. "I need my Scion -- a vessel capable of containing my energy and roaming Auldrant to complete this task."

"A vessel?" Luke all but whispered. The warmth hadn't yet moved, and the light was making him feel dizzy.

"Yes," Lorelei answered. "Luke, I will not ask you to carry this burden any longer -- I could never ask such a thing. You have done above and beyond what _any_ person should have to do. You have sacrificed everything in order to save your world. Your actions . . . you have done beyond admirably."

"Then--"

"I fused your fonons with Asch's to preserve the body," Lorelei continued, drawing away at last. Luke's head was still swimming, but he fought to pay attention to Lorelei's words. "But you . . . Luke, you deserve to rest. To be at peace, just as Asch is."

". . . To die," Luke murmured. There was a heavy pause.

"That is one way of putting it," Lorelei said finally, tone grave. "Eternal sleep would be another. Letting go and being free of all the burdens that were unjustly but necessarily placed upon your shoulders." Luke closed his eyes almost automatically, and felt a gentle weight on his head -- almost like when Guy would ruffle his hair when he was younger. "Rest, and be at peace, Luke. You deserve at least that after all you have been put through for the sake of Destiny."

Sleep sounded marvelous -- beyond fantastic. With his eyes closed, Luke could feel his muscles relax, as if he'd dropped down onto a lush bed. It was easier to breathe with his eyes shut, easy to listen to Lorelei's words about forgetting and letting go. He _was_ tired, after all -- absolutely exhausted. Tired of the constant stress, the constant struggle. Tired of it all.

But . . . with his eyes closed, Luke could remember other things. He could remember a prank war with Anise during the journey, in which he tried to one-up her for every prank she pulled over on him. He could remember arguing with Natalia over stupid, insignificant things, just so both of them could forget whatever identity crises they were having. He could remember the thrill of pride he'd have when Jade would give him an approving nod, a non-judgmental look in his eyes. He could remember Guy's arm slung around his shoulders, a grin stretched across his best friend's cheeks at whatever cheesy joke he'd just told. And he could remember soft brown hair and big blue eyes pleading with him to stay, and the tug on his heart as he _promised_ her he would return.

"I can't," Luke breathed, and at first even he wasn't sure whether he was talking to the phantom memory of Tear or to the being of energy before him. But as he wrenched his eyes open, staring straight at the glowing light, Luke knew precisely who he was talking to. As dead tired (perhaps with the emphasis on "dead") as he felt, Luke couldn't give up. He could not break his promise. "I can't let go. Not yet."

"Why not?" Lorelei pulled away, and Luke swallowed, fighting with himself to stay strong.

"I made a promise." Several promises in various forms, if Luke really wanted to think about it. "I have to go back. Just . . . Tell me what I need to do, Lorelei -- what Auldrant needs. I . . . I'll do it, no matter how long it takes. No matter what I have to do."

There was a sort of sadness in Lorelei's tone when it spoke again -- sadness mingled with pity. "That would be impossible. There is nothing _you_ can do, Luke."

"There has to be. I saved Auldrant once, didn't I? You said it yourself. If I try--"

"It is not your job."

"That doesn't mean I can't do it. When something has to be done, then someone has to do it, and so long as it gets done, it shouldn't matter who." Luke could feel his own resolve wavering, his eyes threatening to close again, comforting warmth snaking around his arms and shoulders. "Please," he said, and his tone sounded almost begging. "Don't do this, Lorelei. Let me go back. Please. I promised."

"You did," Lorelei said, and Luke almost felt as if a hand was moving from the top of his head down his face, pressing his eyes shut and caressing each feature. "And I am sorry."

Luke fought to stay awake -- fought against the warmth, the comfort, the bone-deep fatigue -- but despite how he struggled, it was a battle he had no hope of winning. His muscles going completely lax at last, Luke slumped against the nothing, and surrendered to the warm bliss of unconscious light.

* * *

  
He awoke in the ruins of Hod, and was himself at the same time that he was not.

He couldn't remember very much. Or, that wasn't exactly right. He could remember everything in a gigantic haze, a blur of memory, at the same time that he could remember nothing distinct. Vague notions, a snippet of words here or there, blurry faces -- it came back to him just as it ebbed away, just out of reach. At first, for the first few seconds that he lay on the ground with green eyes staring up at the sky, he couldn't even remember his own name. Then he remembered several names at once, and had trouble fixing any of them to himself.

Luke. Asch. Lorelei. Which one was it? Perhaps it was all three.

He'd gotten up, and clothed himself in clothes he found nearby -- clothes of unknown origin that were white and black, striking in contrast against each other. They covered every inch of his skin, save his face and hands, but that was for the better. They'd cover the blood red welts that circled his arms and legs, lacing his skin in strange symbols and patterns that he recognized, but didn't really. After hooking the Key of Lorelei -- _blessed blade_, his _sword_ -- around his waist, he'd left. He hadn't been quite sure of where he was going, only that there was something that needed to be done, and he would have to do it. With _his_ power. The power of Lorelei, the one who was him yet was not him.

As he'd exited Hod, he'd paused, standing very still for just one single moment and feeling the moonlight upon his skin. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, letting the light fall across his face, and dark red bangs that -- along with his hair -- were much longer than they should have been (or maybe they were that length all along -- he couldn't remember). When he stood there like that, letting the moment sink in, letting go, he could almost hear . . .

_Carry on,_ a voice seemed to whisper, not on the wind but in his head. _You will be at peace when all is said and done._

"Yeah," he whispered, opening his eyes to watch the play of the Fon Belt against the moon. "I know."


End file.
